Angels Always
by The Phantom's Mask
Summary: A story I dreamt after hearing
1. Which angel should I follow?

**A/N:** I have gone against my usual writing style to write in 1st person so don't blame me if it is slightly odd… I'll get used to it one day…

**Chapter 1 – Which angel should I follow?**

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"I sit and wait,

Does an angel contemplate my fate...?"

**Erik**

When I say that life is not a force with which to challenge, as I often tell myself on lonely nights, I do not intend to imply that it is somehow too great a foe.  No, no, quite the opposite.  Life gives up too quickly, loses too easily, puts up too weak a fight…  Life gives in to death; and death is infinite…

However… life is stubborn!  When told to give up, it fights back with a force ten-fold.  When challenged, it fades into darkness, never to resurface…  Yes, life is stubborn!  For years, I refused to give up life even when I was battered to within an inch of it, but as soon as I decided it was too much, death was nowhere in sight.

Fate is, by far, the most fickle of all the other-worldly forces.  It can be changed, and is constantly changed on mere whims.  I had always been destined to have a loveless, and unloved fate… and then came Christine.  She taught me how to love someone with all my heart and soul, and through a burning passion.  She knows that I care but she doesn't know that I am, and always will be, in love with her.  I expect the extent she thinks I love her is that of a doting teacher.  Which, by all means, you could say that I am that, as well.  

Christine… my darling angel!  What a goddess she is, I adore her, and yet, she has no idea.  I think about her as every second ticks by on my watch, as every breath brings me one step closer to death, as every heartbeat makes me love her infinite times more than the last.  I love her deeply and constantly, but I'm sure that the second I'm out of sight, she is probably glad to put me out of mind, too.  She'll never love me…

While I stood there, on top of the Grand Opera House, thinking about dear Christine, I could feel myself getting ill.  Yes, I knew by then that I had been stupid to stand in the rain, the hailstones and the terrible cold wind but it is easy to be wise _after _the event.  Resigning myself to the fact that the damage had already been done, I staggered painfully down to the underground lake with a ragged stride and ungraceful step.

The lines of dull pain sharpened and shot across my chest making me wince as I doubled over in pain from the cramps in my stomach.  Damn, why did I let myself get this sick? – I must have been standing on the roof for hours to get into such a state.  I crumpled down to the pebbly shore with an overwhelming urge to release the contents of my stomach out through my mouth.  And, I did just that – I vomited into the placid waters of my black lake.  

The burning acid feel of my irritated throat made me close my eyes to find some relief.  Of course, it was futile and all I could do was begin to pull my aching body along the shore to my house by the lake.  The rocks did nothing but hinder my plight – I found that they tattered my dress suit and bruised my elbows, not that I have to point out that I was now covered in a coating of dust.  

My breath came in pained gasps as I dragged myself along the wooden floors towards Christine's room.  I would rest there, in the only place that comforted me, but I would be sure to vacate it before Christine's regular arrival the next night.  She came back most every night and stayed all day until rehearsals.  I'm sure she doesn't realise the anguish she causes me when she leaves everyday, or the worry she evokes if even one minute late, but I can't blame her for her naivety.  It is, after all, one of the many reasons I love her, and at least I know she will return shortly.

Raising myself onto her luxuriously comfortable bed and pulling her satin sheets up around me, I could smell the scent she always left behind her.  It made me feel better to be able to savour the warmth of her scent hugging me as I slowly fell into a dull unconscious state.

*    *    *

I wakened again, I don't know how many hours later, to that comforting smell of my beloved Christine.  It soothed my actual physical pains and my vision cleared slightly as I tried to sit up.  Pulling myself onto my elbows, an unbearable pain fell through my aching stomach, forcing me to drop back down on my side rather than risk vomiting on Christine's sheets.

Untangling my arm from the covers and taking my watch out of my waistcoat, I saw that it was much later than I had expected, in fact, it was around midnight – about four hours after Christine was supposed to have returned to my home.  Had she come back, found me in her room like this and decided to leave?  Forever?  Had I lost her?

A gentle cough took me from my reverie with a start as suddenly a long blue shape settled in my view.  It was my darling, Christine, wrapped in one of my cashmere blankets, sitting in the huge armchair by the bedside – by _my side.  She was certainly asleep and I found myself smiling uncontrollably despite my pains and blurred vision.  It was definitely a sight to behold; she was so beautiful even if the chair did seem to swallow her up!  It is amazing that such voluptuous beauty could come so naturally to one so innocent and pure.  She had once again captivated me to the point that my thoughts were rendered trivial.  _

I lay for over an hour, watching her as she slept peacefully.  Had I been in full health I would have switched places with her in an indignant heartbeat to give her the bed, but as it was – I could barely move and not without immense pain.  I watched as her eyelids fluttered open, her cheeks flushed rosy pink and she graced me, unworthy as I was, with a smile from the heart and a look of concern in her azure eyes. 

Dear Christine raised herself gracefully from the chair and sat on the bed beside my still form, causing me to flinch but fortunately she didn't notice… or attributed it to my ill-health.  She laid her delicate hand on my forehead; I knew it was purely to check my temperature – which, by the way, was soaring! – but I felt myself lean into her faultless palm.  I believe she thought I was just trying to gain some more of the cool off her hand but I really just wanted some comfort and I was relieved that she kept her palm on me.

The softness of her skin made my flesh tingle and I gasped involuntarily as she leaned down closer to me, brushing my hair with her fingers.  "How are you, Erik?" she asked me, really starting to look worried.

I wished I could move enough to get up but I was utterly useless!  And all I could do was hoarsely mumble something.  She had to put her ear next to my trembling mouth to hear me properly.  "Chri… tine, I'm… sor… ry you… had to… see… me like… this."

She smiled, what I could only guess was a reassuring smile, and stroked my good cheekbone in a preoccupied way.  "Don't be silly.  You're very sick.  I'm going to stay with you until you get better – I'll tell the managers I can't finish this run of _Faust.  Now, sleep… you need rest."_

Generally, I would have argued but she was right and I was in no fit state to speak.  I remember her pulling the covers up around me, giving me a sip of water and singing me a lullaby before I let the darkness swallow me up.

*    *    *

I was completely oblivious to most things over the next few days; the details of all that happened are sketchy at best.  I vaguely recall flitting in and out of consciousness – I couldn't really figure out which was which – they both were filled with pain and restlessness.  And they both had my precious angel in them – in one she told me to fight it, not to leave her; in the other she told me that it would be easier to just let go…  I knew suddenly which was reality… but should I follow it?

Sooner or later, I would have to go one way or another – depending on which path I decided to take, an angel certainly did contemplate my fate… my angel.  If she hated me I would die and if she loved me I would fight God himself to just get back to her… but as I couldn't be sure…

Darkness pulled me once more and I let it, I was beginning to think that life wasn't worth fighting for, that death would be my release.  After all, 'If Fate shall have me King; then Fate may crown me' – if Fate wants me to live then it will have to do all the fighting for me…

Which angel should I follow…?

**Next Chapter: **Christine considers life without her Angel… and life **with** him.


	2. How thin is the line between devil and a...

**Chapter 2 – How thin is the line between devil and angel?**

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"…and do they know

The places where we go

When we're grey and old…?"

**Christine**

For days he has been writhing in pain on the bed in front of me.  I have watched him squirm at the slightest draught, thrash about at the fevered dreams that consume his mind and lash out at the smallest sounds that echo in his underground dwelling.  All this combined leaves him exhausted, completely knotted in the bed sheets, and sore.  It became a routine that I would hold his wrists when he tried to struggle, then I would have to relax the constricted sheets that were abruptly around his throat and cool his flushed cheeks.   

I had never before seen this man with his commanding nature even have the common cold but now he was absolutely feeble, and that is not a word I would dare use lightly to describe my dominant teacher.  Whenever I tried to give him food, he would discard the whole process of chewing as though it were a measly frivolity and would only swallow if the outside of his neck was touched, which made him do it involuntarily.  It was entirely a waste of time trying to give him water – it had the same effect as if I had thrown him in the lake… he would choke on it and spurt it everywhere, leaving his neck wet and my dress damp – but I had to try, I couldn't let him become dehydrated.  

During all this, he darted in and out of consciousness – never staying awake long enough to speak but enough to open his eyes and reach out his hand; it always fell before I had a chance to hold it, though.  Regardless of his cataleptic state, I sang to him and spoke to him; telling him that I couldn't help him unless he fought it, that I wanted him to stay.  He rarely replied, but a few times I heard him groan and once I heard him mumbling something quietly.  He kept repeating it for a few minutes, "Which angel should I follow…?  Which angel should I follow…?  Which angel should I follow…?  Christine, lead me… it's down to you…"

I suppose I should tell you now that I'm more perceptive than Erik gives me credit for… I can see the looks of adoration he gives me when he thinks I'm not looking, I can hear the sensual tones in his voice when he thinks I am sleeping, I know that the way he touches my hand is not due to simple affection for his only student, and I am aware of the hurt in his eyes when I get sent flowers – and I can assure you it is not caused by mere over-protectiveness like a father might show a daughter.  Yes, I am well aware of his unconcealed feelings for me but that doesn't worry me – what frightens me is that I don't feel a need to tell him his interest is unwanted…     

Therefore, I know what he means when he tells me that it is down to me… I know what he wants from me… but do I have the confidence to be able to give it to him… can I give him my love…?

As my thoughts devour me I see him wince and turn onto his tender side, wrapping his arms around his throat as best he can.  That makes me realise just how much he has given me in life, including my… voice.  Surely he is worth taking the plunge into responsibility… really, I should be able to tell him my feelings if they will help him recover and then allow myself to account for my words…

Adding up in my mind all the things I would go through if he lived and all the things I would experience if he died, I decided that I couldn't very well live without him to guide me.  More bad than good would come if he left and I wasn't sure what would happen if he stayed, though.  But is being uncertain as to what will happen really better than being certain it will be bad?  Does the possibility of something good happening outweigh the definitiveness that life will be terrible? 

Is there some divine force in the universe that knows what decision I will eventually make?  Do they know how my life will turn out?  Am I just here to play out the fate that was decided for me before I was even thought of?  Or is it down to me?  Is it my choice whether Erik lives or… dies?  And if it is, then aren't I strong enough to give him what he's always wanted, something he never expected but that which I am not entirely unwilling to give?

I hear him gasp as my hand strokes his hair and I know my answer…

Yes… I shall give him my love for his happiness to develop at last… he does deserve it, does he not?  

After all, just how thin is the line between devil and angel?


	3. What is the price of salvation, these da...

**A/N: **I will start off this chapter by thanking all the people who took time to review my phic.  Thank you so much!  

Also, it seems that I've gone completely against my rule ("Always have a two chapter reserve before you let anyone read your story") and I am basically writing and posting my chapters on the same day so it may take awhile for the next.  I think I only did that because I know how this story turns out and all I have to do is get it onto paper/computer.

Badly Drawn Girl2: Thanks for your lovely review – I can assure there will be more chapters yet to come.

Kates: Thank you for your lovely review too.  I'm glad you like my Erik and Christine… I tried to make them as they seem to appear in my mind, while still granting Christine her brain… I hope you stay riveted over the next chapters.  

maelinya: Thanks.  Yes, I made her stronger in that chapter but I couldn't make her completely decisive… she'll be having some doubts I think… perhaps.  Let me know which mask you think he should wear and I'll see if that can happen.  I wonder how you knew it was Leroux's Erik?  Anyway, this will probably go on for quite a few more chapters because it was a dream and I know how it ends…

Midasgirl: Thank you for being so kind about my little phic.  I will have some more chapters from Erik's POV in a few days, I hope.  And I'm really glad you like the plot development.

The Phantom Parisienne: You wrote me such a sweet review but I fear my story is far short of "perfect."  Yes, there will definitely be more – remember, I have to write a chapter for every part of the song so this could go on for awhile.  Thank you, again!

Lavendar: Thank you, and you're right about Christine but you'll find out soon enough…

Now, on with the story…

**Chapter 3 – What is the price of salvation, these days?**

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"…'cause I have been told

That salvation lets their wings unfold…" 

**Christine**

In all my life I have never met another person more indecisive than myself.  Just when a decision seems clear-cut, I have to turn around and put more doubts into the equation.  Why am I so incapable of making a decision and sticking to it?!  I suppose I should really do something for Erik, for once… at the very least, I should tell him my choice as soon as possible, whatever it may be, surely it would cause him less pain to just know for certain.  

As I leaned back in my chair, fatigued since I had not slept for a week, I saw Erik moving.  He had had his back to me but he moved onto his other side so that he was facing me.  And I saw his bare face again as he frowned in discomfort and kicked the covers down.  The image sent so many doubts into my already confused mind… could I honestly live with his face?  Well, _he _had… but it's not as easy to say that it shouldn't matter in any case for the sake of virtue – it is far harder to be truthful to oneself.  What if the malformation extended beyond just his face?

Why must I be so damned shallow?!  Why can't I see him for himself?!  I don't deserve his love… 

But he deserves mine… 

Isn't it enough that if I give him my love I know I can save him from himself?  Isn't it enough that I alone can make him truly happy?  And when we're both gone from this world, when physical appearance doesn't count for anything, isn't it enough to know that he has the most beautiful soul ever made?  That I can have the heart of this man with three little words…

But if I must ask myself these questions then am I just trying to avoid the answers I already know?  Or is it that I really don't know the answers, at all?  It feels like I don't know anything anymore…  Life has become so hard that I cannot believe anybody could have it harder but I know Erik has.  I know he truly needs love to survive because years of hatred and violence have taken their great toll… and have left him like a broken violin – playing harrowing notes to an unlistening world.  I know now that the world was never meant to see such a genius as his, nor hear such pain through an angel's voice.  No, this world did not deserve such a heart filled with love to reside on it – his heart was meant only for the heavens and his music only for God's ears…  I suppose it is because of his immense talent that he has been cursed with such a hideous appearance because if he were handsome then wouldn't he be too angelic for this world to bear?

Again, I saw him struggle with the heavy bedclothes in front of me and I knew for certain that I had to give him what he had been deprived of all his life… whatever the cost for me, it would not be as bad as being damned for hurting his soul beyond repair, and it would not be as terrible as living a life without knowing true love.  I got up and fixed him in a more comfortable position on the bed and sat beside him.  I hoped that I really did have the strength inside of me to let his wings unfold.  May God punish me if I don't…

But what if he doesn't believe me…?  What if he thinks I am mocking him…?  After all, this poor man had never heard anyone tell him that they loved him, that they cared or even that they didn't find him as an abomination – so could he really believe one who shied away from his touch and cried at first sight of his face…?  I told him I was sorry about that so many times but I knew by the way he nodded too curtly that he was finding it hard to believe a word I was saying – now that I think of it, he might have thought I was only telling him what he wanted to hear so that he wouldn't hurt me because he even went to lengths to show me that I was in no danger.  He wouldn't even look me in the eye for a month without apologising for making me feel uncomfortable…  _Poor Erik… _

_Christine, can you hear yourself, right now?  Do you know how utterly childish you are being?  This not the time to think of yourself, the only one to be concerned about is Erik.  If he doesn't believe you… **make him believe you.  Try whatever it takes to let him find happiness and forget about your selfish self!**_

As I silently reprimanded myself for being so immature, I heard him repeating the same words as before.  He had repeated them so often that I had taken to calling them his adage.  "Which angel should I follow…?  Lead me, Christine… it's down to you…" he croaked in a strangely imperfect tone that had probably never before echoed from his more-than-perfect vocal chords – I can imagine that even his wailing as a baby must have been beyond melodic!  

Right… now is the time to tell him…  "Erik, follow me, you must fight this… do it for _me_!" I said as I tried to shake him properly awake but he seemed to already be lost to me… perhaps his time had come…

He shook his head slowly with his eyes still gently shut and sighed in the most heart-breaking manner, "Oh, Christine… poor, naïve, Christine… I did it _all _for you… everything… was for _you_…"

How could I reply to that?  What could I possibly say that could rectify matters…?  He was, nevertheless, right and I could not begin to convince him he was mistaken.

"I know, Erik, I know… so, do this one last thing for me… fight it for me and I will never expect anything more.  You would not deny me one final wish, would you?"  Yes, I knew that it was terrible to toy with his emotions further but I was fully aware that he could deny me nothing and what would that matter anyway if he lived?  I only hoped he could learn to forgive me…

"No… you are right, Christine… I cannot refuse you your final wish from me.  But, though I would fight for you I do not believe that this is a battle I can win…"  He let his head drop farther into the pillow and appeared to have given up already.

That so familiar sensation of burning was again present at the backs of my eyes and the unshed tears gathered in the corners, waiting for the tear that would make them overflow.  My voice came out shrill like the sound of the highest register on the flute and yet with all the despair of a cello – "But, but… I… lo… love… you…"

Out of all the reactions I might have expected, I did not quite understand the one he actually gave me.  He became visibly sadder, snapping his eyes open though not really looking at anything, a film of wetness covered them suddenly, and the light that was ever-present in them faded away.  "I had fantasised that _my_ Christine would say that… but, alas… it is never to be.  I only wanted the best for her… hmm…"

I was shocked into silence… what was he talking about?  He was raving… I was right here beside him, I _had_ said those words…  Was he now truly mad…?  Had I pushed him over the edge…?  _Christine, you did a great deal more than that… you tied a blindfold around his eyes, led him to the edge, and told him to jump – that all was well… You made him do it and yet you cannot be blamed by others because you did not push him…  No… you did something much worse…_

How could I live with myself if I knew he was insane due to the torment I inflicted on his soul…?  No… I must stop thinking about myself and help him… I will spend the rest of my life caring for him if I have to… though, I'm sure he had not intended to have me made into a nurse-maid…

But if it would save him for me to be here…

Just what is the price of salvation, these days? _     _

**A/N: **I wasn't as happy with this chapter as I was with the rest but this is the way it happened in the dream – not a lot went on but I had to keep it the same for the sake of understanding the next few chapters and to fit properly with the song lyrics.  Next chapter is in Erik's POV – should be better, and something will become quite obvious… anyway, can't reveal anymore…  I hope you like it.  

Thanks again to all those who asked me to continue… you know who you are…


	4. The definition of Hell changes for every...

Ash: Thank you.

The Phantom Parisienne: Thank you.  Oh… and happy birthday.

Lavendar: Well, I'm happy you liked that chapter more than I did, and thank you so much.

maelinya: *Where to start… hmm…*  Don't worry – I talk to the characters through my computer screen…  I hadn't thought about who Christine's conscience is, it really never occurred to me – thanks for pointing that out, though I don't know who it could be… actually I have _one idea, but I don't see how I could fit it into this story.  Yes, he's in a state between dreaming and unconscious – you got that head on – and that's why he calls Christine "naïve" in front of her but this chapter will have Erik's POV on their conversation.  Hmm… As for the mask… I'll take that into account, and as for the long review… I enjoyed reading it.  Thank you._

****

**Chapter 4 – The definition of "Hell" changes for every given person…**

****

"…so when I'm lying in my bed,

Thoughts running through my head,

And I feel that love is dead,

I'm loving angels instead…"

**Erik**

The definition of "Hell" changes for every given person, does it not?  It is, in spite of everything, a punishment, is it not?  So, for it to be different for everyone then we all must go through it alone…  _Alone… _what a word that is… probably one of the only single words that are given to frequent contradiction in themselves… I have gone through my whole life surrounded by sneering men and screaming women – and yet I have been so very much _alone…  And now I must go through death and Hell alone, too…_

Hell is undoubtedly _not_ a place where fire and brimstone rule, and the temperature is high enough to boil diamond in a split-second – because, why would it matter to spirits just how hot it was…?  No, it must be punishment on the soul; on the essence of the person… it must be essentially insufferable, therefore, it must have a root in fear – it must be something that the person fears losing the most…

So what is my Hell…?  What would make my eternal punishment truly unbearable…?  A world with no music, no beauty, no love… no _Christine_?  I'm sure, the latter; because Christine _is my music, my beauty and my love… she is my world.  But if it is my sentence to never hear her voice again, to never see her smile, never hold her elegant hand…  My mind has already begun to fracture at the thought of what death means for me and I pray (I actually __pray) to God himself to forgive me so that I can just see Christine once more… even if it were to watch her from afar one last time, I just want to picture her happy before my mind's eye loses her countenance forever and I succumb to the inner-torment that is everlasting…_

_Silence…_

So this is it, then…?  I could have guessed that my greatest fear would be silence… even in life, when no-one else could hear anything; I still heard music playing inside me – I have never heard so silent a moment as now; not even when I was subjected to that hideous cage was everything this _quiet.  It is truly __painful!  _I will spend infinity making up for my crimes in whatever way, if you'll just give me my music back – just release me from this silence, God!  Take me out of Hell and give me melody, if nothing else…__

_Silence…_

_So you couldn't find it in your "heart" to give me even the slightest of happiness… so you have condemned me, have you?!  Perhaps Lucifer will see things in a different light… Perhaps I can have my music in return for something…  You have to admit that Satan has been far kinder to me than you – he has allowed me darkness…_

_Silence…_

_What am I raving on about…?  You gave me Christine… even if only as a pupil… she was mine for a brief period… I suppose I should be thankful for that alone – and I am… but…_

Why, of all things, could I not tell her how I felt…?  Why had I left it too late…?  She could have loved me… or learned to love me…  _Nonsense… who could even tolerate you?!_  "Oh, Christine… poor, naïve, Christine… I did it _all for you… everything… was for __you…"  __If only you could have seen that…_

I did not expect God to ever answer me – for, what good is Hell if it does not last…? – but He _did answer me.  A voice born from the silence filled my head with holy music even as it was merely speaking.  It was my angel's voice – Christine's voice…  "I know, Erik, I know… so, do this one last thing for me… fight it for me and I will never expect anything more.  You would not deny me one final wish, would you?"_

Ah, I see… so I have been given added suffering now for cursing the name of God…  He has sent a mock of _my _Christine to fool me… but what good is it if I cannot see her…?  Why must He torment me so…?  Christine could never say that, and yet… _I cannot be sure… so I must answer as though it were Christine I was replying to…  And if it is a trap set for me then I'm afraid I don't care that I'm sprinting right into it, just to hear my beloved's voice… "No… you are right, Christine… I cannot refuse you your final wish from me.  But, though I would fight for you I do not believe that this is a battle I can win…"_

"But, but… I… lo… love… you…"

Oh… picking a torture for someone is easy… but when they take the thing that one holds most dear…  It is _despicable_!  For God to throw me a blow _that strong…  And yet, He does not realise that by making the mock say that; He has given the game away in one fell swoop!  That is not my dear Christine saying that to me…  _

Despair and anguish only resided in my heart… I did not have the strength for anger… I just got more depressed…  "I had fantasised that _my Christine would say that… but, alas… it is never to be.  I only wanted the best for her… hmm…"_

_Silence…_

_Back to this again, I suppose…?_

_Silence…_

**A/N: **Well, that's Chapter 4 done so I should have the next chapter soon.  It's in Erik's POV, I think.  Anyway… thanks again to my lovely reviewers, you all succeed in helping me tie my muse to the chair while I work!  

This is why I like writing stories against songs – because I know when it'll end and I know how to get there (my muse is more co-operative that way).


	5. Is Hell a state of mind?

Wow… seventeen reviews in three days… that is far more than I expected to receive for the first story I had the courage to post here on ff.net…

The Phantom Parisienne: Thank you, my loyal reviewer!  You write me very sweet reviews and have given me a lot of inspiration/encouragement and for that I truly thank you – it is not easy to motivate me but you have succeeded in doing so.  I offer you my fondest gratitude for comparing my phic to something poetic.  I hope you continue to enjoy reading this story to the end…

Kates: I'm happy some people can actually see the inspiration I gained from Leroux's novel…  Yes, my muse seems to be nocturnal in its habits and acts like the imperfect man – lazy, not dedicated, stubborn, forgetful and too hard to figure out.  It is the embodiment of "changeable!"  As for Erik's and Christine's happiness… we shall most definitely see…  And thanks for your applause and consideration!

Claire Starling: Thank you so much – Sometimes I surprise myself too, I'm very happy you like my story and I'm trying to continue but my muse seems to be wrapped up in some other time-consuming task… just when I thought that I might actually have its full attention to the end… *sigh* 

Lavendar: Thank you for your lovely review.

Ash: Also, thanks and I hope I can pay attention long enough to write the next few chapters… we shall see…

maelinya: I don't love putting Erik through the most explicit torture, as such… but I always seem to write when I'm in a mood so it's just part of my process… and I find that sometimes making him happy would not be _him_, at all…  Of course, there are exceptions to every rule and maybe I'll use one…  When you said that I "make the intangible tangible" I nearly cried in happiness – it is such a lovely way to describe something, though I did not deserve it.  And I like your analogy, too.

Badly Drawn Girl2: Thank you for encouraging me to write more chapters… I suppose this is why I never seem to finish stories when I don't let people read them – because no-one can ask me to continue or tell me what they liked about it…

I hope you all know my immense appreciation for those of you who have reviewed!  You're all so kind to me!  Thank you!

Chapter 5 – Is Hell a state of mind…? 

****

"…And through it all she offers me protection,

A lot of love and affection,

Whether I'm right or wrong…"

Erik 

_Humming…_

Can I really _hear_ humming…?  But I thought my punishment was silence…  I thought the price of my crimes was my music…  But this humming is melodic in its own right, and it is not as though it is out of key… it is perfect.  This is not torture… so why can I hear it…?

_Humming…_

It is definitely there and it is definitely beautiful, but am I imagining it?  Has my recently music-starved mind begun to create scores and play them in my head as it did when I was alive?  _No, it can't have… if God has the ability to deprive me of music then surely He could make sure it would extend to my imagination… Or is He not strong enough to break away that part of my spirit?  Is God _that_ weak?_

_Humming…_

The least He could do if He is weak, is make the humming off-key or the source tone-deaf…  So why has He not?  Why has He given me this gift of tune only to take away everything else…?  Actually, I realised then that _silence is not the whole of my greatest fear, as such… being plagued by _horrendous_ "music" could be worse… clashing notes… discordant rubbish… randomly picked pitches… conflicting semi-tones…  If that had been my punishment it would have done its job far quicker than silence.  So is it just that God is inept at giving souls true torment…?  He could have made _me_ tone-deaf, so that every note I heard would sound pretty much the same…  I knew if I was not already dead and that happened to me it would succeed in killing me faster than a knife through the heart – though, perhaps they would both _feel_ the same…  _

_Humming…_

This is torture in itself, is it not?  Being ignorant to the reason it is there…  And it is not as though I even _tried to hear that humming… can I be sure that I made it?  __Concentrate, Erik!  Try to hear what is making the noise – try to find the source in your head…_

_Humming…_

I was sure of it… the rich-toned crystal notes in a soprano's pitch were not coming from my own mind… they could not have since I did not know the tune they constructed – and to point out the blatantly obvious, I am _not a soprano…  Yes, I know I could have made the notes that high in my head but it hardly seemed likely that I would want to hum in that pitch…  _

_What could it be?!  _I thought I had to go through Hell alone…  And why did it not only have a source, but also it seemed to have a _direction_?!  Why was it coming from my left side?!

_Singing…_

That… _voice_ is but Heaven itself, is it not?  That perfect sound could be nothing less… and yet, I know it… I've heard it.  _What's it singing…?_

"_Sempre_ Ricordo_?" Yes… yes, it is!  But, but… but, that's __Christine's voice… nevertheless, it is not __mocking me!  It is singing __for me!  I'm not in Heaven so how can this be?!_

Abruptly, the voice rounded-off its last note, in a way only Christine could do without seeming rushed, and sighed as though it were anxious for some sort of reaction that I couldn't quite give.  "Oh, Erik, I know you probably never hear me when I talk to you now… but, I feel compelled to just try to get you to respond.  Everyday, I feel as though I'm too late… that you are gone… but you have been lying here for over a week in this state and you still live.  I feel like Pandora 's Box – I didn't realise the damage that I could cause and now only hope remains inside…"

In all the time I have known Christine Daaé, I had never heard her speak her mind quite so well, never heard her use such a parallel.  But what is "hope" really?  Isn't it just the power of being cheerful in circumstances which we know to be desperate…?  "You've… been hold…ing… out on… me, my dear," I managed to stutter.  _But is it real?_ Am I back from Hell?  Was I ever there…? 

The sharp intake of breath was apparent to me and I knew she had not expected an answer.  A sudden tingling overtook my entire form and I shuddered under the discomforting feeling it gave.  My limbs had gone from dull, lifeless-feeling blocks of ice to the flesh I was so used to… adorned by a prickling, fiery sensation.  _What was happening to me?!  I could feel again?!_

"Oh, Erik… I thought you had…" Christine broke off.

_Thought I'd… thought I'd what…? _"…died?" I suggested, seeing as it was the only subject I could think of that she would shy away from.

"Don't use such harsh words, Erik…  I thought you had… 'passed away'," she continued quietly.  _Is 'die' really that harsh a word?!  I can think of worse, my dear… hate… silence… fear… Hell…_

"Poetic allusions aside, both outcomes, Christine, are rather consistent."

I could imagine her shrugging at my answer and she moved on, not wishing to continue in the subject of death.  "Why won't you look at me?  Now that you're awake…"

I didn't answer for my thoughts clouded my mind further:  Well if I'm not in Hell, then did I really die…?  Did I come back because I had been _taught a lesson_…?  Then, is Hell _supposed to not last…?  Is it supposed to be there only to make people change…?  Do all evil people get sent there until their souls become benevolent, and then they get to finish their lives in the human world…?  And when they die __again, do they get sent to Heaven, instead…?_

So is Hell just a path on which there is the means to be redirected to heaven…? 

Is Hell a _state of mind_…?

There was one more disheartening question in my mind…

"But, Christine, why can't I _see you…?_

**A/N: **Next chapter is in Christine's POV and I hope to make it better than this one but I was in a "destroy anything and everything that gets in my way" kind of mood when I wrote it so we'll have to see…

Everyone who reviewed, I would like to thank again for cheering me up since I have been in a mood all summer as my new English teacher doesn't seem to care for my style of writing…  She has, in fact, "asked" (I mean "commanded") me to "change it to a less formal manner" and to "be less verbose!" (Personally, I think she replaced the best teacher in the world and didn't deserve to…).  In any case, I feel more uplifted now and I will find a way to prove her wrong… (Yes, I know… I should lay-off on the whole "spitefulness" thing… but revenge is so sweet – and what would be sweeter than passing my GCSEs using my own writing style?!).  _Oh, poetic justice, indeed…!_

And I'll leave you for today with a quote I find oddly appropriate:

"Life may change, but it may fly not;

Hope may vanish, but can die not;

Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

Love repulsed, - but it returneth!"

(Shelley, Percy Bysshe – Hellas, I)


	6. Life the equivalent of a drop from a tw...

*hugs all reviewers and thanks them for caring that much about Erik*

The Phantom Parisienne: How can any one person be this kind??  Thank you, thank you, thank you!!  About quoting me – if you feel you would like to then it would be an honour to be quoted by someone.  As long as there are stories in my head, I will write till my last day… it's just whether or not I actually have enough inspiration to _finish_ them.  If you didn't notice, I'm always unhappy with my chapters – I'm just too much of a perfectionist to ever be content with what I've written.  Again – thank you, thank you, thank you!!  *smiles happily*  Oh, and you reviewed my two little poems –  so, thank you, thank you!!  

Kates: Thank you so much.  Oh, about the end – sorry to leave you on such a cliff-hanger but I couldn't help myself…  If you repeat your mantra loud enough then it might just work… (I know from experience).  

Midasgirl: Yes, I'm British.  Thank you for your review.  And the only reason I'm getting the chapters up quickly is because of the inspiration I get from all my lovely reviewers.  As for calling my teacher a moron – I'm afraid I tend to agree…  And as for the cliff-hanger – sorry to have to make you wait but I thought finishing the chapter there would be more appropriate than going into a big conversation (I _hate writing long pieces of dialogue because I find writing it hard).  If you die of suspense – I will be indirectly responsible, won't I?  So hold on, just for me…_

Ash: I couldn't possibly release that sort of information about Erik… you _should _find out soon enough… And, I seem to be managing about a chapter a day so I'm doing well compared to myself usually…

Badly Drawn Girl2: You wrote me a very lovely review and I thank you.  I'm glad you liked the last chapter and the cliff-hanger _should_ be resolved soon.  Your reviews of my poems made me very happy and I'm thrilled that you found them worthy of your favourites list.

maelinya: Yes, I know it would be torture on him but if I ever happen to do something to him that would hurt him tremendously – you must remember that Erik is my favourite and I'm not in a habit of giving him _only pain… there will be some sort of light at the end of his tunnel…  I'm happy you liked my portrayal of Erik and I _should_ be writing the next chapter soon – in between poems.  Anyway, I think I'll be heading down to the pet shop now *wink* to… umm… buy some chipmunks… thanks for the idea and for adding me to your favourites list!!_

Phantom Aria: If you're reading this – thanks for reviewing one of my poems!

Lavendar: Thank you and I am also hoping he will be alright – I have a few things yet to come his way… 

And back to the story…    

****

**Chapter 6 – Life – the equivalent of a drop from a twelve storey building…**

****

"…and down the waterfall,

Wherever it may take me,

I know that life won't break me…"

**Christine**

Life really is the equivalent of a drop from a twelve storey building…  I started realising _that the second Erik asked me his distressing question a few hours ago.  His eyes had rolled up into the back of his head as he became unconscious once more before I could even comprehend what he had meant.  But when the shock cleared I knew the significance of life…  _

After all, the start of life is painful like making that first step over the edge of the roof.  Then life starts to improve in childhood – a feeling that could be interpreted as happiness though it's really just ignorance because they don't know what pain lies ahead in their lives or what pain lies at the end of the fall…  The farther they get through life the slower it seems to go and as they fall the people in the buildings are the counterparts of their families as they watch their lives go by in the drop.  Each floor represents a stage in life and as they near the bottom they have the realisation that death is in front of their eyes, which had remained closed, unaware of the danger, until this point.   However painful the fall was, it is the hit at the bottom that has no parallel – for no man really fears death, only the event that takes him there…  

Also, I realise that every person has _something, whatever it may be, that helps them to slow the fall down, make life seem better, defy the forces…  This _something_ helps to make the end less painful in their minds… but it cannot __save them from death…  _

Well, Erik's _something_ is music…  

But his music is beyond powerful… it does, despite everything, have the input of an angel… so what if his music is stronger than the usual _somethings_?  What if he already made the fall and it saved him…?  But what if it couldn't save him "intact?"  What if he lost something in the collision that couldn't be replaced…?  What if life _broke_ him…?

I finally understood that life couldn't break _me as long as Erik was by my side – he wouldn't let it… and it is down to him that my father's death was not already the crash at the bottom of my fall…  But life _had_ broken him… it had left him like a house without walls, a table without legs… a violin without strings… each serving no immediate purpose and yet they still exist…  But for how long…?  How long can the violin last before it rots into the ground…?  How long before it could never be described as something that ever made music…?  How long before it doesn't exist…?  How long…?_

I wondered if Erik would even waken up this time – had the shock of what he might have lost been too much…?  He could be slipping away from me as every minute merges into an hour and as time is increasingly against him…  I could _still_ lose him…  He could still go…

And if he did, would I ever know him again?  Or would he realise I effectively am incredibly responsible if he dies?  Would he even go to Heaven?  _Of course he would!  All angels belong in Heaven!  Would I…?  Would he wait for me?  _

_Christine, what are you saying?!  Of course, Erik would wait for you!  It is you he got himself into this state for anyway… He would not only wait for you but he would lead you the right way…  He would take you by the hand, as you would be a stranger in this glory, and he would lead you through its land until you were finally at peace…  Then, he truly would be the angel and again you would be his to teach… for ever and a day!  He would open his arms to his love in Heaven and would tell you that he had finally realised you cared…  You could actually be together at peace…  Peace…_

I will always remember the way his eyes shone like stars, the way his music radiated in the night – beauty itself.  I cannot forget the warmth of his heart in the cold, cold world, or the splendour of his words in the darkness that was his home for so long…  And though he would be gone before me, I would never quite be alone… he would be a part of me… the _best_ part.  Alone – we would be together, and together – we would be alone…  And when I leave the Earth, I will leave together with him…  And with us true love will die too… to make it into Peace with us…  _As life fades and light leaves – love dies!_

Little in life remains true – memories grow fainter as each day passes, feelings collapse as new things happen, happiness ebbs away as every river flows and hope is blown away on the wind… but life cannot take away the purest of feelings… although it may seem that it can… genuine feelings do not change even when clouded by other thoughts.  So I can be sure that whatever happens I can still be with Erik – for now that I can see what I'm losing, I know that it is all I ever wanted…

To be with him, in true love, for ever and a day…      __

  

**A/N: **I'm afraid you'll all have to wait until the next chapter (Erik's POV) to see if Erik wakens up, _again_… and it seems I have not yet answered the question you all were asking… I think one more day of suspense won't kill you…  Umm… yes… I hope not anyway…  I will get around to it but I just have so many more ideas to bring into this story that I had to delay the answer of one of the most terrifying questions a phan could ask…  *shudders*  If I have it my way, my muse will make things better but… when do I ever get it my way?!

**UPDATED A/N: **I am, for some reason or another, getting tremendously fed up with this story because it is not exactly flowing the way I had first intended…  And, I know how I want to make some of the later chapters but there is a gap I am annoyed to have to fill.  Perhaps, I will have to take a break from it for a few days until I find writing it to be more interesting…  All I know is that there will be no chapter today…  But, please remember that I had not intended to leave the story hanging for another day – it just turned out that way…

Deepest apologies

~ Kirsty 

Ash: Thanks.  Sorry if the last chapter was confusing but I was writing it early in the morning and it was basically just what was on my mind.

Lavendar: I'm very pleased people still like it because I tend to write things more concerning the mind than actions and dialogue.  I don't really know why… I just seem to write about things that are not exactly tangible – more abstract.  Hmm…  Thank you.

maelinya: The truth will find its way to this phic in time…  Actually, I, personally, thought that all six chapters were depressing in their own large ways…  Anyway, I suppose I should say that I have no plans to bring death into the matter… at least, not yet… there are more things to be thrown at them first…  Yes, I know… I sound heartless but I couldn't possibly resist…  However, I will remind everyone that this story is E/C… and I mean to the bitter end… whatever I do will not separate them, as such… because I, myself, couldn't bear it if it did…


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